Wow, what a day. Started off by going to the Refugee Law Project with Serge and getting to meet the director… very strategic in meeting him as he will be a huge asset in helping these Congolese in Uganda. I will be able to bless him as well since I have many connections and places of information in the US that I can fill him in with. He’s a good guy, named Chris, from the UK. He’s a very English fellow, and his mannerisms aren’t exactly normal here, but he has huge heart for the hurting people here. After that Serge and I walked to the Office of the Prime Minister where we waited in line with Somalis finding out whether they’d be going to the US or Canada for resettlement. I left Serge there and I headed to WorldVision offices for the central region, I didn’t find what I was looking for, but was directed to the country headquarters for WorldVision, which happens to be the biggest Christian relief org in the world. There I met with the security officer pertaining to my question concerning the market at NGO’s for German Shepherd dogs, purebred actually, that African Hearts plans on raising and selling. It may prove to be a wise business venture, as he described the huge demand with expats and security personnel. He gave me some good advice. From there I wandered the Nakasero district where many of the embassies are at (not the US’). Then I took a boda boda motorcycle taxi to the old taxi park to find the Kenya bus lines. No luck. So I got food at shoprite, somethings there you can’t get anywhere else in Uganda. I was stoked. We’re making chili! Anyways… from there I finally went to get a Kenya bus ticket. I got cut in line (don’t even get me started…) so many times, I literally couldn’t get the ticket. So I just grabbed a boda boda to the paint factory to pick up our paint that we ordered. That was an ordeal, but I got the paint! Then a boda back to rubaga road for luganda lessons at Sandra’s house! Then a boda to the house… like 10,000 shillings worth of boda rides today, ah! But from there the day really started….
I walked to meet Serge at the tent where they live and I brought my bible. I sat with those beautiful people, and we prayed. These people are my people. They are not my flock, I’m not a pastor, but I’m doing what I can while I’m here to be a blessing to them, as they have been to me. There is something about them, these 25 people, who sleep outside and are treated as “others” by the Ugandan refugee agency, interaid. They are a family of foreigners in a foreign land. To a westerner we would say, and understandably, aren’t they the same? And they look like buganda people, I can’t tell them apart, but a Ugandan will know that they are Congolese. So these people just take care of one another. They gather at night and care for one another, and there they praise God as a family, a family with the worst of backgrounds… but still in love with their deliverer. I shared with them Matt. 5 today, and Luke 6, where Jesus just goes vertigo on us with what we deem important. Some of them cried and praised God… what am I to say to that? We just prayed for Uganda, Congo, and these people, we pray for deliverance. They strike me at my most basic level. They are the least of these, and I’m blessed to be around them. I bought them some bread and butter and water and bananas. There was barely not enough bread. Ezekiel, the pastor, who was handing out the breaded pieces, had thanked me earlier for he loved this food. He thought he would have one piece to eat, but at the last moment a small child put his hand out, and a huge smile crept across the godly man’s face, and he handed that sole piece to the young one. I just watched community in its rawest form… I ran and ran and ran to the closest supermarket and bought a loaf of bread and ran back, I made sure that night that that man ate. I told them all, “I’m trying to get you fat!” which is a great thing in Africa, I mean, there are signs that say “gain weight, no side effects”… as they walked me here, to the very s l o w . . . . internet café, we joked about how we all wanted to be fat, and that we’re going to pray for fatness and Serge yelled laughingly “we claim to be fat in the name of Jesus!” … it was hard to describe the idea that in the US being fat was not a very popular thing to be….
These people are wonderful, and I’m seeking desperately to help their situation. I’m writing people who can help, and I’m getting as much information about them as I can so that we can plead there case. Time is running out for me here, but our God, you know, He’s and awesome God.
Thanks for listening.
dan
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